The Idiot Chronicles
by RosylaGypsy
Summary: As series of moments, between two teenage boys who have no freaking clue what is going on. Somehow, everyone else manages to pick up on it first.  Slash, James/Logan.
1. Big Time Girlfriend

_Ok so, I'm going over some choice episodes of season 2, picking out the biggest moments of James/Logan UST, and manipulating them into a slow-developing story of two idiots who don't realise that they are falling in love. Mostly it focuses on James' side of things. This one takes place directly after 2x03, Big Time Girlfriend, with cameos by lost!Kendal and savvy!Katie. Warning: contains references to specific jokes and events featured in this episode, so if you haven't seen it, you might get lost. (Suffice to say, it's the one where James and Camille kiss, and Logan sort-of-not-really breaks up with Camille). Enjoy._

_Disclaimer: Don't own these guys, wish I did._

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><p>"Come on. You know you want to."<p>

"No, I really don't."

"Just get it over with!"

"James, I'm not breaking your lucky comb. You fell into a black hole of depression the last time you _lost_ it, and I'm not dealing with Gustavo's wrath if you can't sing for a month. Besides I already forgave you, remember? Spitball fight? Dramatic reconciliation? It only happened this morning, your memory can't be _that_ tragic."

"Yeah, that was before I found out that you broke up with Camille! Seriously, what gives?"

Kendall, who was rifling through the kitchen cupboards in search of chips and mostly ignoring his friends' latest catfight, popped up in alarm. "What? You and Camille broke up? Since when?"

James and Logan glanced at him. Logan was sprawled across the sofa with his legs stretched out. James was straddling Logan's legs, leaning far into his personal space, and his Face was wearing an expression that was part guilty, part annoyed, and all confused. He held his lucky comb aloft like a weapon.

"Well?" Kendall prompted, when both failed to respond.

They exchanged an awkward glance. "It's . . . kind of a long story," Logan said. "Some things happened, and I decided there use clinging to a relationship that would only come to a brutal end sooner or later."

"Dude, harsh." Kendall squinted at them. "So why is James grovelling?"

"James here was the catalyst for my epiphany."

James scowled and sat back on Logan's legs, making squeak in pain. "Don't call me words that I don't understand!"

"Fine. James was the _idiot_ who made me realise that first relationships don't last."

"That's bet- hey!"

Logan sighed. "But it wasn't just him. Camille admitted that it was a mutual thing, and she was sorry, but. It still hurt. So, I broke up with her. Don't worry, we're still friends and I'm persevering though the heartache in a brave and manly fashion."

Kendall blinked. "I still have no idea what's going on."

"Oh, forget it. And _you_ get off my legs!"

James didn't budge. "If you want to punish someone, punish me," he insisted. "It's not Camille's fault I'm so irresistible."

Logan spread his arms, exasperated. "What do you want me to do?"

The comb was shoved back in his face. "First, break my lucky comb, and get all this nasty vengeance stuff off your chest. Then you and Camille can get back together, and the world will be realigned. Everyone wins."

"It's not that simple, James."

"Why _NOT_?"

(As Kendall watched the scenario unfold, leaning on the counter with his newly found bag of Doritos, Katie wandered over and hopped up beside him. He tipped the bag towards her. "I feel so out of the loop," he complained.

Katie popped a chip into her mouth. "That's not surprising. You've been busy with your own drama and haven't been paying attention to all the quirky subplots."

"Fill me in?" he pleaded.

"Later," she promised. "Right now I want to listen.")

James was still frowning in confusion. "I don't get it. Why did you break up with Camille, but still want to be friends with me?"

Logan shrugged. "Well I can't exactly get rid of you, can I? We live in the same apartment."

"Yeah, but . . . I still don't get it. Why choose me over her?"

"I didn't _choose you_ over her, I just . . ." Logan waved his hands around helplessly, as if trying to catch words out of the air to explain himself with. He finally settled on, "James, you made a bad decision. But I . . . _we all_ make those, all the time. And I told myself years ago that I'd never lose a best friend – any of them – over a bad decision." He rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable as always when admitting he had real feelings for someone. But he caught James' eye, and held it to make the point perfectly clear. "Look . . . you and Camille are my best friends, and this way, I don't have to lose either of you. You're really important to me." He flushed. "I mean, you both are."

(Over by the counter, Kendall made a face. "And what am I, chopped liver?"

"Shh!" Katie hissed.)

James' face had always been expressive, and right now, he was wearing an expression of wide-eyed shock, as if Logan had just tripped him over. And it was difficult to tell under the tan, but for some reason, he looked a bit pink. "Really?"

Logan grinned crookedly and shrugged one shoulder. "What can I say, I'm selfish like that."

James smiled, gratified and oddly shy. Kendall hadn't seen him smile like that since the three of them went to his house and personally begged Mrs Diamond to let her son join the hockey team. He cleared his throat. "So you're definitely not mad?"

Logan groaned and let his head fall back. "I'm _definitely not mad_," he enunciated. "What, you want it in writing? Engraved on a plaque?"

James laughed, high-pitched and genuine, and poked him in the forehead with his comb. "Tattoo it right here, so I'll never forget."

"Please, you spend way more time looking in the mirror than you do at me. I'll put it on _your_ forehead."

"Get a tattoo, and maybe I'll look at you more often," James teased.

"_Never_."

"You say that now, but just wait till the day when I get you drunk."

"I repeat: _NEVER._ Now get the heck off my legs, before they fall off."

"Whatever, you big baby." He sat up, shoved Logan's legs off the sofa and threw himself down beside him. They grinned at each other for a long moment, realised it was getting awkward, then quickly turned away to pick up their book and mirror respectfully. Crisis had been averted, and the world was realigned.

Which, of course, meant . . .

"Are you still reading about that stupid planet?"

"Venus isn't stupid! You're stupid."

"Your face is stupid."

"Your _hair_ is stupid."

James gave a tiny scream of horror. "You take that back!"

Back on the counter, Kendall snorted at his friends' antics. But Katie was enraptured. "Woah," she breathed. "Did you see that?"

"See what?"

"That moment, right there! I totally did not see that one coming." She shook her head in wonderment. "Everything's changed now."

Kendall stared at her, and then at two of his best friends, sitting closely together on the sofa and shoving each other around. It would probably degenerate into a wrestling match in about ten seconds. As far as he could tell, nothing had changed at all. "I don't get it," he said blankly.

His sister patted him on the head, the same way one might pet a particularly dense Golden Retriever. Which was totally unfair; he was almost as smart as her. "Don't worry about it. It takes time and experience to see these things."

"Right." Kendall shoved an entire handful of chips in his mouth. "Whatever, baby sister."

Sometimes his life made no sense at all.

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><p><em>Hope you enjoyed :)<em>


	2. Big Time Live

_So hey, I just wrote over 3,000 words of two guys bickering and accidentally flirting with each other. Plot, who needs that? I promise stuff will actually happen next chapter. Thanks for reviewing, I'm glad people are liking it This one takes place after 2x04, Big Time Live. There are also a few indulgent references to X-men, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Beauty and the Beast, and Wicked the Musical, so I apologise if you don't quite get those. Enjoy!_

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><p>Logan would be the first to tell you that Kendall, Carlos and James were the biggest idiots this side of the Equator – which, given that was still hanging with them, obviously made him the biggest idiot in the world. But as Kendall might say, friendships like this don't come along very often, so Logan had long since decided that he'd pay the price in crazy hijinks, bad decisions, frustration, frequent property damage and occasional injuries, if it meant having friends like them.<p>

Then of course, once in a while their crazy, convoluted plans _did_ go right, and victory was all the more glorious.

Their stint on AM-LA was one of these times. By rights, they probably should have been arrested for _something_ – trespassing, property damage (a running theme with them), or hell, bodily harm to that mean producer lady (also a running theme) – but Griffin had pulled some strings, and so they ended the morning as heroes rather than criminals. Hey, that's Hollywood for you.

They returned to the Palmwoods in high, if sleepy, spirits. All three of the Knights went straight back to bed. Carlos accepted Miles Bainbridge's friend request on Facebook, and then headed down to the pool to see if appearing on live TV would give him a better chance with the Jennifers (not taking into account that they probably didn't get out of bed until at least nine). James sat down on the sofa and flipped through his stupid _Things To Do Before I'm 20_ list, ticking off random items.

At a loss of anything else to do – he was feeling kind of tired, but not enough to go to sleep – Logan made himself a sandwich and joined James on the sofa. "What a morning, huh?"

"I know, right? Can you believe I accomplished so many life goals before eight am?" James shot a hopeful side-glance at the sandwich, but Logan just edged away warily. "Where's my sandwich?"

"I dunno. In the kitchen, waiting for you to make it?"

"So much work," he complained.

"But you get profit," Logan said, waving his plate around.

James thought about it. "Nope, still too much work." He looked back at his list, grinned happily, and ticked off another life goal. When Logan craned his neck to get a better look, he saw that this particular life goal was to make Kendall wear a bandana. Logan couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" James said.

"Just all the random stuff you want to do. I mean, 'slap a pharaoh'? Where does one even get the motivation to do something like that?"

He shrugged. "Can't remember. I wrote that one down years ago."

Logan's eyes bugged out. "_Years_? How long have you had this list for, and why have none of us known about it?"

"Oh, Carlos knows."

"He does?" Logan felt an irrational twinge of jealousy, but manfully ignored it. It was just a stupid list.

"Yep, in fact, he suggested some of the things. But I began it when I was eleven . . . originally it was Things To Do Before I'm a Teenager, but my priorities went through a sudden, dramatic shift during puberty."

Logan smirked. "I'll bet. So . . ." he leaned forward to try and get a better look. "What's number one?"

James shot him an offended look and pressed the notebook to his chest. "None of your business!"

"What? Oh come on, _Carlos_ knows!"

"Carlos _stole_ it, and held it hostage for a week, during which time he decided that I needed to date all of the Pussycat Dolls before marrying Nicole, sail around the world with him in hot air balloon, and buy a Komodo dragon, all before I'm twenty. There was no consensual sharing of information, and you will never, ever get your hands on this list for as long as I live!"

" . . . I'll give you half my sandwich."

James sniffed. "I'm not so cheap."

"I will _make_ you a sandwich."

"Okay!" He grinned. "But sandwich first. And no crusts."

"God, what are you, five?" But Logan hefted himself over the back of the couch and stomped over to make James a sandwich. Why was he even doing this? It was just a stupid list.

"Make . . . Logan . . . _offer_ . . . to be . . . my . . . slave . . . check!" James declared loudly. "Wow, this _is_ a profitable morning! I should get up at five every day."

Logan threw an oven mitt at the back of James' head. "Shut up and tell me what number one is."

James rolled his eyes and made a huge spectacle out of flipping through his notebook. "Alright, Eager Beaver – _Number One: Become a popstar_."

"Well, that was predictable. What's number two?"

James glanced down. "_Be universally adored_." He preened. "Only a matter of time."

Logan rolled his eyes. "Three?"

"_Be a model._ Hey, I can check that one off! Or actually . . ." he tilted his head to one side. "Do you think my eleven-year-old self would be satisfied with elbow-modelling?"

"I don't know, James. All I know is that your eleven-year-old self was apparently just as shallow as your current self, and I don't even know why that surprises me."

James shot him an affronted look. "Hey, I wasn't _that_ shallow. My desire to be famous and talented ran very deep."

"Obviously," Logan conceded. "But don't you have any life goals that aren't all about your image, or being famous?"

James sighed and thumbed through the pages. "You ask much of me, Logan. Oh, here's one: _Number 21: Say no to Mom_."

Logan raised his eyebrows. "Wow. That _is_ ambitious."

James blinked. "Yeah, I suppose it is." After a long moment of staring at the page, he looked up at Logan. "Didn't you promise me a sandwich?"

"No. See? So easy."

"Oh, really? Pretend I'm my Mom for a second." He closed his eyes, straightened his spine, and then snapped them open to glare at Logan, his expression icy and regal. The sudden resemblance to Brooke Diamond was actually frightening "Logan Mitchell, bring me a sandwich _now_."

Logan yelped, and scrambled around the counter. "Yes Ma'am!" Then he stopped short. "Oh my God."

James' face melted into a huge grin, and he burst out laughing. Despite himself, Logan couldn't help but laugh too. He found himself grateful that, despite inheriting her beauty, James was nothing like his mother, or his namesake. Rather than cold and hard, he was warm and squishy – metaphorically, anyway. He liked connecting to people rather than dominating them. He tried to be perfect, but wasn't afraid of failing now and then because he knew his friends wouldn't turn away or take advantage of him. He trusted people – perhaps a little too much (Katie had been telling some interesting stories about a stalker and a dog cage the other week, before James had paid her to shut up) – and it might be difficult to pry him away from his mirror, but he did genuinely care about people. Like how he'd been so defensive on Camille's behalf when Logan broke up with her, but still wanted both of them to be together, and be happy. He was a good person, under all that fake tan.

"Hello, Logan? Can I have my sandwich now? Please?"

Logan shook himself, and chuckled. "Coming right up, Your Highness."

"Oh, I could get used to that!"

"Yeah, _don't_. Let me guess, becoming royalty is one of your life goals?"

"Well, I have been rehearsing my Prom King speech since seventh grade," he said brightly, as Logan sat back down on the sofa and handed him the plate. "Thanks, dude."

"No problem. Well, it is, but I'm getting my compensation now." He took advantage of James' distraction to snatch the book out of his lap. James whined at him around a mouthful of sandwich, and aimed a half-hearted kick at Logan's thigh. "Sneaky nerd," he grumbled.

"Duh," Logan said, already browsing through the chronicles of James' Hopes, Wants and Desires, 2005 – 2011. "You know, I think your handwriting has actually gotten _worse_ as you got older."

"I'm better at signatures," James said defensively.

"Great." Logan squinted at the messy scrawl beside Number 30. "_Star in a superhero movie_. Huh, cool. Which one?"

"Um, back then I think it was Batman, but all the good ones have since been taken." He frowned contemplatively. "Maybe I'll be an X-Men in one of the First Class sequels."

"Not gonna lie, that would be awesome."

"I know, right?" They fist-bumped.

"_Number 48: Play Fiyero on Broadway_? Who's that?"

"The male lead from Wicked, you uncultured heathen!"

"Stop calling me big words I don't understand," Logan teased, and James ducked his head to hide a smile. "Right, you used to be really into drama, huh?"

James nodded. "I did consider going into musical theatre rather than becoming a popstar – briefly, mind you – but I'd be nowhere near as famous or popular. But I will be Fiyero one day, once I've achieved superstardom in the world of pop music and it comes time to expand my horizons. Camille and I already decided that we would be an ideal male and female lead for most contemporary rock opera productions!" His smile faded at Logan's flat look. "Sorry."

Logan sighed. The thing was, they totally would be. "Don't be."

James gave him a probing look. "So, you and Camille . . ."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay, okay. Jeez."

To distract himself, Logan continued skimming through the list. He was surprised at how interesting this was. Usually he didn't have any great desire to get inside James' head, because James was so transparent and wasn't the type to hold back on his thoughts. But looking through this list put a slightly different perspective on the boy he'd grown up with. He frowned at _Number 52: Lose Weight_. "How old were you here?"

"Hmm? Oh probably, like, thirteen. Remember how chubby I was back then?" he shuddered. "Not even perfect genes will guarantee you a free ride through puberty, my friend."

Logan tried to picture James at thirteen. His brain gave him an image of a tall boy with big eyes and too-long hair. He'd been very pretty even then, but without the grown-up edge of masculinity, which wouldn't hit until he was about fourteen and turn him into an instant Minnesota heartthrob. Back then, he'd mostly looked like a girl, and his mom's desire to capitalise on his unusually feminine features hadn't helped. Logan remembered him being a little soft around the edges, but hardly what any sane person would call overweight.

He had, however, been as insecure as Logan had ever seen him. It was common for anyone that age (Logan himself had been a total mess at twelve), and he'd masked it well by throwing himself into drama and acting. But Logan could still remember the way he curled into himself when one of the stupid, rough boys in their class had called him a girl. Or, on the rare occasion which usually ended in Kendall punching the perpetrator, called him something worse.

"_Number 54: Lose More Weight_."

It was easy to forget, now that James was so confident and popular (and, oh yeah, an actual _popstar_), but now that Logan remembered, he felt sort of irrationally protective over Young James. Which was stupid. Given that James was now happily combing his hair in the mirror that he'd produced from . . . _somewhere . . . _he'd probably suffered no lasting damage to his psyche.

Still . . . "I think you looked pretty damn good for that age," he said.

James shot him an odd look. He scrambled to explain himself. "I mean, remember me? I spent all day reading, like, I walked around holding a book and not making eye contact with anyone. And I had _braces_. That's a death sentence in middle school."

James grinned and ruffled his hair. "Yeah, but the braces paid off, right? Camille did tell me that out of all us guys, she picked _you_ to assault every day because you had the cutest smile."

Logan felt himself going red. "What, really?"

"Uh huh. I demanded some explanation for this outrage, and she said that my smile was too goofy or some nonsense." He scowled. "Delusional female."

Logan had no idea what to say to that, but he couldn't help grinning in self-satisfaction. James, who was watching him critically, pointed at him. "A-ha! It's the dimples! They blindsided her and gave her strange ideas! We will have words about this." Suddenly he gave Logan a hopeful look. "So does this mean you'll get back together with her?"

"God, will you give it a rest? Why do you even care so much?"

"I just want you both to be _happy_, is that so wrong? Also, she's terrifying to most guys, and you, like, burst into tears or set yourself on fire when a girl talks to you, so it's going to be really difficult setting you up with other people!"

Logan resisted the urge to thump his head on the table. "Look, James, I appreciate that you want us to be happy . . . I think . . . but if you keep trying to force us together, _none_ of us will be happy. So please lay off the matchmaking?"

James crossed his arms and leaned back. "Fine, whatever."

"Also, I can totally get my own dates, thank you very much."

He snorted. "Right. Well, good luck getting someone _else_ to make cue cards that say, "Will you go out with me? :) "

Logan smacked a cushion into his belly. "Shut up."

"Face it, Logan." James batted his eyelashes. "You would be lost without me."

Rather than dignify that with a reply, Logan resumed his search for blackmail-worthy life goals. He found one way back on _Number 13: Marry Belle_. The name 'Belle' had been crossed out. It was the first goal (and the only one for at least one and a half years if Logan's mental timeline was even slightly accurate) that indicated James' interest in girls. "Okay then, Doctor Love, who's Belle?" he asked.

James' eyes widened. He snatched the book out of Logan's hands and stared at his old handwriting. "Who? Oh, her? No one, nobody, a girl in my class, ha, ha."

Logan smirked and leaned back, stretching his arm out along the edge of the sofa. "Really James? Because I have a very good memory, and I can't remember a single girl called Belle in any of _our_ classes throughout elementary school. So, who is she?"

"No one," he insisted.

"You sure? Because she looks like your first crush, and since we were still pranking girls at around that time, she must have been pretty special." He poked James in the side with his toe, making him squirm. "C'mon, tell me."

"None of your business!"

"Are you angling for another sandwich?"

"No, I just don't want to talk about it," he said haughtily.

"This, coming from the guy who unashamedly dated a _palm tree_?"

"Don't you mock her!"

"Unbelievable. Maybe I'll just ask Carlos, since he's apparently the expert on all things James."

"Fine! Go ask Carlos! I don't care!"

Logan leaned forward and smiled hopefully. "Come on," he wheedled. "_Please_ just tell me?"

James's eyes slid reluctantly sideways. He sighed and gave up, apparently sick of arguing with Logan over his life choices. "Belle wasn't a girl, she was a character. You know, from Beauty and the Beast? She was always my favourite Disney princess."

Logan was momentarily shocked into silence. "A . . . Disney princess? You wanted to marry a _Disney princess_?"

"There's a _reason_ I crossed it out! Besides, I was going through a very delicate stage of my development at the time, and latching onto my childhood was a way of de-stressing."

Logan tried not to laugh, truly. But he couldn't quite help it.

James shoved him. "Shut up." When that only made him laugh harder – seriously, it was hard to make James embarrassed about anything. If he wasn't embarrassed, it wouldn't be nearly so funny. "Shut up!" he repeated, pushing him harder until Logan was half hanging off the sofa, still in hysterics. Before he could finish the job and dump him on the floor completely, Logan threw his arms up in surrender.

"Okay! Okay, I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I used to like Ariel. You know, once upon a time." He edged back onto the sofa, still suppressing a grin. "So why Belle? Out of all of them, I mean."

James shrugged one shoulder, pouting self-consciously. "She was the smart one. I like smart girls, especially when they have brown hair. And she had the prettiest dress. Enough judgement!"

Logan raised his eyebrows. "_You_ like smart girls? Since when?"

"Hey, just 'cause _I'm_ not smart doesn't mean I can't appreciate in other people. I'd date more of them, but, you know . . . this _is_ Hollywood. Most girls don't exactly come here to get PhDs."

"Harsh, but you have a point." Logan yawned. The long morning was finally getting to him. But he was too comfy to go to bed. "You gonna tell me any more life goals?"

James snorted. "No, I think you've been invasive enough for one day. Now it's your turn."

"What?"

"Tell me one of _your_ life goals."

Logan scoffed. "Oh come on, you know how boring I am. I want to be a doctor. I've _always_ wanted to be a doctor. That's pretty much it."

"Hmm, you're right. That is boring." He swung his legs up and claimed Logan's lap as a foot rest, smirking. "So you're gonna have to make something up, because you're not going anywhere until I have my compensation."

Logan groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. It's not like he could be bothered moving anyway. "Do I have to?"

"Absolutely."

"Ugh, fine. I guess fair's fair." He closed his eyes and thought for a moment. "Well . . . I want to travel. Go all around the world, especially to Africa. Maybe even work there for a while."

James frowned. "That's a long way away."

"It sure is. I also want to write a book one day."

"About medicine and stuff?"

"Nah. A novel. Something cool and exciting that _every_ kid will want to read, not just the nerds. Like Harry Potter."

"Will you name a character after me?"

"Maybe."

"It has to be a cool character! Like, a prince, or a ninja. And he has to be handsome."

If Logan could be bothered opening his eyes, he'd roll them. "Whatever you say, James."

The pair of them fell silent for a while. The mid-morning Californian sun streamed through the window, seeping into Logan's bones, making him feel warm and sleepy. James' legs were a solid, comforting weight on his lap. He was on the verge of drifting off when James brought him back, his voice soft and non-intrusive. "Anything else?"

Logan cracked one eye open. James's Face swam into view, looking off to the side, either at the blank TV or nothing at all. The sunlight framed his profile, catching on his eyelashes and the tips of his perfectly combed hair. He'd learned a suprising amount about James today. He might just look like a pretty face, but he dreamed big, and he'd already accomplished so many things. That insecure thirteen-year-old was gonna be a big star, provided he always kept people around who loved him enough to keep him grounded. Smiling faintly, Logan closed his eyes again and shrugged. "I guess . . . when I was little, I really, really wanted a brother. Now I got like, three, so karma really overcompensated."

James laughed. Logan felt it reverberating through the sofa, and through their point of contact. "You love us."

"Mmm," he verbalised, dreams already lapping at his consciousness. "I really do."


End file.
